It was not your fault, but mine
by Lovino Lovemeplease Vargas
Summary: Gilbert was feeling a little sentimental as he sat in this room. It hurt, but he couldn't help but blame himself for all of the happenings in the past months. Maybe a good cry would make him feel better...


i! So, this little post is collaborated with my 2P!Gilbert page on Facebook, where I roleplay. Of course, I tried to add all of the history between the two mentioned so that everyone would understand, but if you still have trouble, let me know and I'll either make edits or I'll post a separate one where it's entirely history based.

If there are any mistakes, just point them out and I'll fix them. Enjoy!

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Gilbert sat in the rocking chair he had bought back a few months ago. He was lazing in a simple pair of pajamas that he hadn't bothered to change from just yet. They were comfortable, and with his current melancholy mood, he had a lot of trouble gaining the willpower to do anything. He had his hair tied up in a loose ponytail, with the ends draped lazily over his right shoulder.

Bright blue eyes trailed over the room where so many memories had been made. The room was a nursery that had been created during his months as a female, pregnant and hormonal, but he just couldn't bring himself to rid of anything that he had kept in there. Each item was special in its own way.

In the corner was a shelf stocked full of toys that his son would have played with, had he made it. Both Gilbert and Mattheiu had pitched in to make them; some by hand, and others bought from a local store. Underneath the shelf was a stack of books that had yet to be placed in their proper places. A dresser sat to the left of the corner, stocked with baby clothing that Gilbert had picked out during the time Mattheiu had been away. None of these things intended for his child had been touched.

But right now, Gilbert only had one person on his mind.

Mattheiu.

The story of how they met was a simple one, but one that the ever simplistic Gil loved to keep in mind. He had been sitting in the local park, singing to a small crowd in hopes they would toss a coin or two in his jar. He had been singing all day, and yet he was till content to continue his little tune, even if it had only been to himself by that point. He was at peace, and he was feeling a little twinge of happiness. The Prussian man had lain down on the bench, tucking his arms behind his head to stare up at the sky and continuing to sing in a low hum, not hearing anyone walk up behind him. A sudden poke from a blunt object started him, causing him to jump and let out a yell. But the person he came face to face with made him quiet almost immediately and drop his gaze.

It was the Canadian. Quietly, Gilbert asked what he wanted. It was entertainment. Gilbert felt as if he couldn't provide something valuable enough to keep the other's attention, so he had asked him to explain further. After talking over what Gilbert was supposed to do to keep him entertained, and a few comments on whether or not Gilbert was going to get hit by the hockey stick in his hand, Mattheiu began to open up to him. It was surprising, to say the least.

After a few months of small meetings and randomly hanging out, Mattheiu started having nightmares of Gilbert disappearing, and they terrified him. Gilbert, he said, had been the only one to understand and genuinely care about him, or so he felt. He didn't want to lose that. But they didn't know that these nightmares would be a foreshadowing of their future.

The night, Gilbert had accompanied Mattheiu back to his home to be a source of comfort. If the Canadian man could see him, then maybe his mind would be relaxed in thinking that he wasn't going to disappear any time soon. They had left earlier in the evening to go for a walk to the place Gilbert held special, catching the sunset. Afterwards, they watched a movie together and had dinner together, staying up late into the night informing each other of the different things that had been going on in their lives, deciding to share a bed for comfort.

The next day, Gilbert had come to him crying. He had hurt someone because he hadn't known what to do. The situation had been blown out of proportion and Gil hadn't known how to react. It was silly. At the end of that conversation, Mattheiu had confessed. From there, things had gone from bad to good, and fluctuated from time to time, but Gilbert was, for the most part, happy. Even though the both of them had lost their memory at some point in time, their love never died. Gilbert couldn't keep a relationship because it didn't feel right. He had felt that something was missing. With thanks to his adoptive mother, Abby, who represented Nebraska, he was able to get his memories back as well as the love of his life. When it came to Mattheiu, nothing could make his life better.

Even though Gilbert and Matt had been involved in a rough, yet stable, relationship for close to seven months, things still seemed to go wrong for the both of them. They had left each other, had gotten back together, and fought for each other. Gilbert had had to face Mattheiu's dark side to try and keep their relationship alive. Gil couldn't understand why their relationship didn't last any longer considering they both knew how much they loved one another. And because of that, Gilbert had been fighting with himself on a particular subject that he didn't much like talking about with others.

He wanted to close off any sort of romantic connections. He loved Mattheiu dearly, and because of this, he wanted to continue holding on to that love, even if they weren't together. He believed himself and Mattheiu to be soul mates, bound together by a tiny, red, tangled string. He had kept the shirts Matt had let him borrow; made a photo album of the things Matt had drawn for him, and saved all the notes that had been written to him. He had a sketch book Matt had forgotten at his house once, and he had a notebook which Mattheiu had written a lot of his thoughts down in. It was a daily routine for Gil to go through them.

But that leads us back to where Gilbert is now; sitting in the rocking chair and singing softly just like he used to do with Mattheiu.

"_**Weep for yourself, my man, you'll never be what is in your heart. **_

_**Weep, little lion man, you're not as brave as you were at the start. **_

_**Rate yourself and rake yourself, take all the courage you have left.**_

_**And waste it on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head.**_

_**But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line.**_

_**I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear?**_

_**Didn't I, my..."**_

Gil loved this song. For him, it symbolized all the time's he had fucked up. He had broken Mattheiu's heart a thousand times over and all because he was easily influenced and indecisive. That is why he's so silent now, voice always just above a whisper and trying to make those around him dislike him. He didn't want anyone else to become too close. He felt like he always fucked things up, whether it is friendships or simple acquaintances. He didn't trust himself anymore, especially not after Mattheiu.

"_**Tremble for yourself, my man, you know that you have seen this all before.**_

_**Tremble, little lion man, you'll never settle any of your scores.**_

_**Your grace is wasted in your face; your boldness stands alone among the wreck.**_

_**Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck."**_

"Weep for yourself," he murmurs softly, shaking his head. The tears he'd been holding back for days were finally pouring out of their own will, and he curled up in the chair, rocking himself and letting it all out. It was that kind of crying where all you could do was scream and scream and scream, never quieting until your grief had been known and your body had become exhausted.

"_**But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line.**_

_**I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear?**_

_**But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line.**_

_**I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear?**_

_**Didn't I, my dear?"**_


End file.
